


the water sheet spouts and the mind dances

by thermodynamicActivity (chlorinetrifluoride)



Series: The Collegestuck 'Verse [47]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Asperger Syndrome, Autistic Feferi, Bullying, Child Abuse, Depression, F/F, F/M, Humanstuck, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlorinetrifluoride/pseuds/thermodynamicActivity
Summary: It's 2018. Your name is Feferi Peixes, and you are a first-year law student. It took a whole lot of work, and a whole lot of luck for you to get this far - mostly work - but here you are. Undeniably.How did you get here, though?(A series of drabbles about collegestuck Feferi that follow her from childhood, through high school, through college, and into adulthood.)





	1. prologue: the body and itself are a river

**Author's Note:**

> it occurred to me that i have been neglecting feferi in this AU and that is a crying shame because feferi is lovely and i do have a backstory for her, i just kept forgetting to write a fic that addressed it  
> so yeah  
> high time to rectify that stunning lapse w/r/t my lack of fef in this series
> 
> although this story is feferi-centric, there will be points that focus on other characters  
> also, the narrative is not consistently from feferi's POV  
> such is the nature of trying to construct a fic from drabbles  
> anyway i hope you like it

_**Fall 2018 - Feferi Peixes** _

Your name is Feferi, today is your first day of law school, and you are anxious.

So anxious, in fact, that you’re doing that rocking to and fro thing, a steady displeased noise flowing from your mouth. You are energy. Too much energy. You feel like a waterfall, ceaseless, unbounded. but not in a way that makes you powerful. In a way that scares you. You splash water on your face and try to chill out.

If you went back in time several years, and told yourself where you’d be now, more or less ready for the day, with your cuttlefish backpack - Kanaya made it from the most pleasing fabric - well, ten year old you would have been shocked you didn’t become a marine biologist.

Fourteen year old would have accepted nothing less, even though she’d be shocked that you’d actually _done_ it.

You’d hurled yourself into your studies, your extracurricular activities, your social justice causes, your internships, and your work, somewhat to the detriment of your social life.

Sometimes you get a little jealous of all your friends. All of them are more or less paired, trio’d, or otherwise involved with each other.

Sure, you have a triad of sorts with Aradia and Sollux, but… you can’t help but feel like they’d get along just as well if you broke it off with them.

Whatever.

No time to think about that now.

Terezi, who will be going to school with you, is more or less dressed. She puts her hand on your face, and you lean into her touch. Sometimes you need to be touched. Other times you are touch averse. Here, you are touch neutral, you suppose.

“Feferi?” she asks.

“Mhm?”

“You’re going to be fine.” She lets her hand drop and continues drinking her black coffee. She puts on a blue button down shirt, and stretches. _"We_ are going to be fine.”

That makes you feel slightly better. You still feel a little stuck, like you’re not going to be able to get up off this sofa when the time comes for you to leave for class.

“Hey, Terezi?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you hand me my backpack?” you ask. “It’s on the end table.”

She obliges.

You rub your greedy little hands all over it, relishing the feel of the fabric. Kanaya must have had you go through a thousand swatches before she found one you could use as a stim. You commissioned her to make the bag for you, for school. If carrying a purple backpack shaped like a cuttlefish seemed a little juvenile, when one is 25 and in law school, Kanaya did not say so.

Terezi said the backpack felt fucking awesome.

You’re not sure if they’re all just doing this to protect you, the way they tend to. You have spent at least fifteen years resenting everyone’s impulse to protect you. Yes, you are not neurotypical. In fact, a lot of the time you are almost glad of it.

Still, mental illness doesn’t mean you cannot handle criticism. Your sensibilities aren’t that delicate. If the request was stupid, if the bag was stupid, one of them could have told you.

Anyway. Law school. You can scarcely believe it.

Eridan joked with you last night that you were moving one step closer to your ultimate master plan of taking over the world. You laughed so hard it hurt. You like having him back. Having to tell him that you couldn’t handle him, that you couldn’t be his friend anymore, back in 2010, hurt you so much. He’d tried to kill himself because you wouldn’t date him. This after he’d been super possessive of you in freshman and sophomore year, whenever he could be.

You wanted to stay his friend, but you couldn’t handle yourself, your schoolwork, your after-school activities, and trying to keep Eridan out of trouble. So you cut him off, and it hurt. It hurt the both of you.

That’s behind you now, though.

It’s hard to believe who he’s become in nine years. You’re so proud of him. Oh, sure, he has his moments, which he refers to as “borderlining the fuck out”, and he still engages in substance use sometimes, but he’s a lot more even and stable than he was in high school.

You take out your phone and start texting friends.

CC: GOOD MORNING LOV---ELY!  
AA: i am n0t even 0ut 0f bed yet  
AA:  there is n0thing l0vely about me  
CC: T)(ats )(ow you know you are truly lovely!  
CC: )(owever it is almost time for you to be awake to teac)( and Sollux definitely )(as to be up soon, so.  
CC: WAK---E UP  
AA: yes feferi  
AA: y0u are the cutest alarm ever  
AA: i swear  
CC: why t)(ank you!  
AA: ready for sch00l  
CC: As ready as I am going to get, I guess.  
AA: y0u will d0 perfectly well

“The dynamic duo awake yet?” Terezi asks, fully dressed now.

You look over at her. She’s adjusting her red tie.

“How’d you know I was talking to them?”

“Because you sound like you're smiling like an idiot,” she points out. She pours herself yet another cup of coffee. “Want some?”

Yes. No. Yes. Sort of. You’d like to be caffeinated, but caffeine might make you jittery and anxious. You’re already jittery and anxious. You tell Terezi exactly this. She nods, tells you to suit yourself, and puts on a black jacket.

God, the only person more butch than Terezi whom you know is your sister. And your sister is a dancer, a decidedly not particularly butch profession. So yeah, Terezi might be the most butch woman you know. She looks splendid, as always.

But because you do need a little caffeine, maybe you’ll get a cup of tea from the place around the corner from the apartment you share with Terezi, and sip it slowly so you can chuck it if it makes you too anxious.

When your parents found out you were going to law school, and which one, they almost immediately found you an apartment close to the train you need to take to get to class. And when you found out that Terezi was also going, you invited her to live with you, assuming she planned to go to your school. Which she did.

“It’s easier if we’re not alone,” she said. “Besides, you can help me with some of the things I won’t be able to see. Literally.”

And she could help you with your meltdowns, although Kanaya and Aradia are generally better at that. It all works out. It’ll all work out. Somewhat calmer, you put on your stockings, sheer, with small opaque dots on them. This, with a gray blouse, and a tyrian purple skirt. You barely match and it is glorious. Kanaya would have a fit. 

You stand in bathroom the mirror and straighten out your blouse. You put on a little eyeliner and a neutral shade of lipstick. A reminder sounds on your phone. You recognize the capitalization and know exactly who put it there.

**Co Wash Your Hair Tonight**

Speaking of Kanaya, maybe you can enlist her help, assuming she’s not fretting over her job. She’s working for some fancy designer and seems tired all the time. Maybe you’ll go over to her house and make sure she’s eating and sleeping. She always does that, just throws herself into her work. Most of your friends are like that, come to think of it. So are you.

You guys are really bad at being adults. Excellent students. Excellent wage slaves. Bad adults. It's all the conditioning you got in school. Do well by any means necessary. Disregard your health.

You had a talk with one of your high school teachers about that, and he agreed with you.

He also asked when the last time you went to sleep was.

You sigh, and gently pull on a lock of your hair. Even co washing it is going to be a pain in the ass, unless you have someone to help you. Yes, you have entirely too much hair, but you would never consider cutting it, because it is your crowning glory. Not many people have natural hair down to their waist, but you have lovingly been caring for your hair since you were a child, except when you were so young that it was mostly Meenah and your parents caring for it.

You take one last look at your reflection. Metaphorically, you see every Feferi that came before you, all the yous that have culminated in the person you are now.

Five year old Feferi, getting your hair yanked on by little children, consequently screaming because you were already overwhelmed by being in a classroom, and now this was happening, people were invading your personal space, and nobody was doing anything about it. And you wouldn’t stop screaming until the office called your parents to come pick you up.

Seven year old Feferi, at that school in Suffolk County, where your teachers would get cross if you stimmed, failed to make proper eye-contact, went nonverbal, or even hyperverbal. A school for kids like the one you were. It was not a nice place. Your parents took you out of that school when you were nine, and put you in a different one. It was quite a bit nicer.

Ten year old Feferi begging to be a docent at the New York Aquarium, even though Meenah told you they wouldn’t let you, because you simply (shrimply) weren’t old enough. Ask again when you’re sixteen, Meenah said. But the impatient Feferi you were at ten did not want to wait that long. Still. Sometimes one has to wait. Water can flow around things, but sometimes there are dams. And while water can wear away at dams, that takes a while. Wait, Feferi. Just wait.

Eleven year old Feferi, opening the back door at 9 PM because Porrim had gotten facial piercings, Kanaya’s parents had flipped their lid, and, lip quivering, but tone calm, Kanaya asked if she could hide out at your place for a day or two. Just until things cooled down at home. Of course you obliged, and let Kanaya cry into your nightgown for half the night. You even promised to never tell anyone that she had been crying, and she thanked you wetly.

Twelve year old Feferi, beginning to read up heavily on politics, and deciding then and there that you wanted to change the world. There’s an old song you love, because one verse describes you perfectly. _I'd love to change the world, but I don't know what to do._ Twelve year old Feferi running out to play in the fire hydrant spray with all the other kids outside, even though it was undignified and your parents would either drop dead or murder you if they found out. They were and are so intensely bougie.

Fourteen year old Feferi, somehow a freshman in a high school for "regular" students, and your highly intelligent debate partner - Kanaya - at their first ever novice tournament. Fourteen year old Feferi thinking Aradia Megido was the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen. Fourteen year old Feferi finding out that other students in this school were like you. The ASD part, not the bisexual part, although there were several of them too.

Sixteen year old Feferi, trying not to cry, telling Eridan they could not be friends. Not because you hated him, but because you didn’t know how to handle him, and you didn’t want to make things worse. Also, because you had issues of your own. You didn't need to add his to yours and end up unable to do anything except scream.

Seventeen year old Feferi, student council president and National Merit Semifinalist, eternally exhausted, and withdrawing from your friends one by one, until they pulled you out of yourself, no mean feat. And, even so, you got angry about it, because they were always trying to protect you, to coddle you, and you were sick of it.

“You’d do the same fucking bullshit for us,” Karkat replied. “Don’t even front. When you need help, fucking ask for it. There's nothing wrong with needing help.”

Nineteen year old Feferi, volunteering to flyer for Barack Obama’s re-election, and being heavily involved in student government at your college, along with about fifty million activist causes. You were so excited (--EXCIT--ED) about everything that you probably alienated a few friends, at least until you learned how to dial back the passion. Nineteen year old Feferi carrying entirely too many credit hours because you still didn’t know how to _not_ overtax yourself. You were always bad at giving things less than 110%.

Twenty-two year old Feferi, freshly graduated from college with a double major in Political Science and Marine Sciences (certain obsessions die hard), and high honors to boot. The expression of absolute pride Meenah wore, tears running down her face. Although the sheer number of people at graduation overwhelmed the girl in the cap and gown, you managed to stave off screaming in anyone's closet until you got to Kanaya’s apartment. She made you a bed of blankets, and put on some tea and Debussy. Aradia came by later to cuddle with you, so you, she, and Kanaya ended up in a cuddle pile of sorts. Like high school. Sollux would have come if you'd asked, but you knew he was out celebrating with family, so you didn't.

Twenty-four year old Feferi applying to law school, you and Terezi sitting side-by-side on her bed, the two of you complaining about how much the LSATs sucked, how this felt like applying to undergrad all over again, and reminiscing about debate team. How Terezi would always check before she put her head on your shoulder, or touching your hands. Especially the second thing. Even Latula came by sometimes to help the two of you out, aiding you in weighing the pros and cons of different programs, and telling you which schools you'd be most likely to get into. She would know. She got her J.D. a few years ago. 

And now twenty-five year old Feferi Peixes, Abena Peixes to your parents, with your own apartment, on your first day of law school.

So much of what you’ve done has been preparation for this, but you never really thought you’d get to this moment.

“You look fine,” Terezi says, as if she can tell either way. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

You spare one last glance at the apartment, slip on your most dependable flats in case there’s a lot of walking around campus involved, and walk out the door.


	2. in currents of still glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from feferi's childhood, meenah's POV  
> chapter title taken from a snippet of muriel rukeyser's "the book of the dead"

**_November 2001 - Meenah Peixes_ **

the first time you take Feferi to the Coney Island Aquarium, she’s maybe 8 or so years old, easily overwhelmed by large numbers of people, and quite shy about talking to those whom she does not know. Once she gets to know you, she frequently doesn’t stop talking. You think it's kind of cute.

However, you are fairly sure that stupid school your parents sent her to is making her worse, not better. Sure she seems more docile, but she… you can’t explain it.

She’s sad more often, and Feferi never used to get sad. Overwhelmed, yes. Sad, no.

You know something about your little sister is off, that something about her has always been off, but you don’t see why it’s a huge issue. Just don’t upset her and everything is fine.

But she’s not quite “normal” enough to conduct herself properly at the fancy dinners your parents attend, when they deign to bring you and her along, and so she must be made to act properly.

You kind of think it’s fucking stupid. All this keeping up appearances bullshit. You’re twelve. You think a lot of things are fucking stupid. This is the most stupid, however.

Therefore, since Feferi has been obsessed with fish since the beginning of time, your parents are out on a business trip, and your babysitter didn’t give much of a shit when you told her what you wanted to do, you decided to take Feferi to the aquarium. Certainly Feferi deserved a reward for putting up with your parents and that fucking awful school. And when Feferi found out where you were going, she was struck wordless with glee for a solid five minutes, her mouth open but no sound coming out.

So here you are. You’ve been here quite a few times. You know how it goes. You know how everything has been arranged. There’s nothing really new to you.

That is not true for your sister, however.

One problem with Feferi is, when she gets excited, she kind of forgets that other people are around. So you get stuck running behind her and making sure she doesn’t knock anyone over in her zeal to see _everything._

Several hours of running after her, plus one lunch, later, she gets to the cuttlefish enclosure.

You stand a pace or two behind her.

Cuttlefish are cool in their own way, you suppose, although you prefer octopi. These are the colorful ones, though. You can understand why she’s drawn to them.  
  
She presses the squishy palms of her small, slender hands against the glass of the enclosure, a uttering a sound of contentment and joy. The bracelets on her wrists jingle as she tries to beckon a cuttlefish over. Yes, your sister is trying to communicate with the cuttlefish.  
  
You have a half mind to prise her away, just in case she does that thing where she gets too excited and starts making a lot of racket. However, since she isn’t running up and down the aisles and nearly knocking people over anymore, you guess you’ll take the chance. You can almost always get her to quiet down anyway. It really isn’t as hard as the adults make it sound.  
  
When you’re finally old enough to have a summer job, assuming ballet doesn’t eat your entire life, you think you’d like to work here as a docent. You like aquatic animals. You’re not quite as obsessed with them as Feferi, but still. It would be a cool place to work. And then you could bring her here all the time, and she would be happy.  
  
One of the cuttlefish floats over to the transparent edge of its enclosure, and raises a single tentacle up to the glass, the part that Feferi’s hand, fingers splayed, is resting against. The only stopping the tentacle from touching her hand _is_ that layer of glass.

And of course, Feferi is so elated that she exclaims “hello!”

The cuttlefish doesn’t even swim away, or even seem startled, for some reason. Maybe it can't hear her. But she's practically thrumming with delight, both hands on the glass now.

The cuttlefish continues to seem unperturbed.

You draw closer in case she gets overexcited, and you have to calm her down before she attracts undue attention, but she doesn’t. She just laughs and gently sways in place.

You wish she could be like that all the time.  
  
You watch it with a small grin on your face.

After Feferi is done communing with the cuttlefish, she reads the information card about them. She calls you over.

"Sup?" you ask. 

“Yaaba?” she asks. “How do you pronounce this?”

You adjust your glasses and peer down to what she's pointing at.

That’s the taxonomic name she’s asking you about.

You read it a few times, something hits you, and you have to resist the urge to laugh, because it’s so perfect, it’s so fucking perfect.

_Metasepia pfefferi._

_Pfefferi._

No wonder these cephalopods get along so well with your sister. She’s one of their own.

Feferi, secretly a cuttlefish all along. Why are you not surprised?

You tell her this and she blinks at you for a while, slightly confused, but seems no less glad.

“Does that mean I have to go and stay in a tank?” she asks.

“I didn’t mean it glubbin’ literally,” you reply. "I'm happy you found somefin you really like, though."

* * *

 That night, Feferi confesses to you that she’d much rather be a cuttlefish than a person, all things considered.

She even looks as if she might cry.

“They don’t have to go to school, do they?” she asks. “Ever.”

“Not a coddamn clue. I never asked 'em,” you say, trying for a joke.

“They can do whatever they want with their tentacles,” she goes on. “And nobody gets mad.”

Two fat tears dribble down her face, and then all she does is sob about how much she wants to be a cuttlefish because maybe everything would be easy that way.

It’s not your place, and your parents will be quick to remind you of that, but as soon as they get home, you need to talk to them. You need to get your little sister out of that school. You will not see her become depressed in the name of seeming like everyone else. You will not see your vibrant Feferi brought down by anyone.

You are quick to anger, and you are positively furious now.

How dare your parents do this to your little sister. Fuck them. Fuck them both.

Fuck keeping up appearances.

And fuck "normal".


	3. nor surer am i water hath the skill to quench my thirst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high-school era, feferi's POV  
> the first time feferi and aradia meet

_**September 2007 - Feferi Peixes** _

You left your house for school at 5:30 in the morning, to give yourself ample time to get to school. You have to take the 4 train from the beginning of its route to the end of its route, from Brooklyn all the way to the third to the last stop.

There’s a crummy gas station that has a Dunkin Donuts, maybe five or so blocks from your school. In order to get there, you have to walk the sidewalk underneath the elevated train line, the tracks casting slatting shadows upon your bare, slightly freckled arms. It’s the first of September, so you won’t be wearing a jacket for a while yet. With each step you take, the gold bracelets on your ankles jingle.

A gentle breeze sends your springy corkscrew curls into motion. You inhale great lungfuls of stale New York City air and put on your best smile. Today is your first day of high school, and it is going to be a lovely day. The fabric of your skirt swishes pleasingly against you.

Your sister has already told you everything you need to know about where you’re going to spend the next four years - the work is hard, the swim team is okay, most of the teachers are decent, debate is full of pretentious assholes, and there is absolutely no pool on the roof. Your sister also told you about the Dunkin Donuts. Now, you’re not much of a coffee drinker - it makes you more jittery than a malfunctioning windup toy - but you do like their iced tea.

There’s a girl about your age sitting inside and looking out the window, with fawn colored skin, dark, monolid eyes. She wears a bright red head scarf, a long sleeved black shirt, and a long gray skirt. She drums her bitten-up nails against the counter, looking ever so slightly bored. Her left foot twitches in time with the tap-tap of her nails.

Her chin rests on the back of her hand, propped up by her elbow. She presumably has a coffee next to her. Something hot, judging from the cup.

Normally, you try not to stare at people overmuch, but she is rather pleasant to stare at. Weird as it feels, you make eye contact with her as you come in, and she smiles politely at you, and maybe you’ve gone a little loopy given the fact that you got an hour of sleep last night, but she continues to stare at you.

She opens her mouth as if she would like to speak - or perhaps she’s about to yawn - then closes it again, and resumes staring out the window.

You order your iced tea, and wait for it, willing yourself to not look over your shoulder at her, because then you might say something bad, or strange, or stupid.

And by the time you take the first sip, and turn back around to introduce yourself, she’s already gotten up to leave. You want to catch her at the door and do something mildly silly, like introduce yourself loudly, but then you’d need to call out to her, and you don’t even know her name yet.

* * *

_**September 2007 - Aradia Megido** _

The first time you meet the girl you'll later develop a massive crush on, it's the first day of freshman year, and you have the period free, so you're kind of wandering the school aimlessly, hoping to run into someone you know. The girl in question is having a glaring contest with her locker. You think you saw her in Dunkin' Donuts this morning. In fact, you're almost certain. She has so much long, pretty hair that it couldn't possibly be anyone else.

It looks like she keeps putting in the combination she received in homeroom in order to get into to her locker, but it won’t budge, and she’s getting more and more pissed off about the whole thing.

She’s this short, lean girl, with freckled tawny skin. She's got on a black leotard, stockings, and a green and blue skirt. and she’s having an actual glaring contest with her locker, the bracelets on her wrists jingling like chimes as she points a very annoyed finger at the locker door and starts yelling at it.

Other than the times that Sollux bites his lower lip when he's deep in concentration, usually coding, it's one of the most strangely endearing things you've ever seen.

She doesn’t stop glaring and swearing passive-aggressive vengeance on her locker, until she notices you watching her. Then she turns and does a little bit of a double take.

"Oh!" She says. "Oh, I'm glad I found you."

You quirk an eyebrow, and walk over to her.

"Really?"

She opens her schoolbag, and pulls out a scarlet pencil-case, plastered in little skull stickers, something that could belong to nobody but you.

"You left it in bio class, and I tried to get your attention about it, but you had already left," she explains. She holds it out to you. 

You take the pencil case from her, your fingers touch for a few brief moments, and you feel a bit of a charge. Not like someone's shocked you. But not quite like they haven't.

This girl is exceedingly attractive.

After you thank her, she goes back to trying to open her locker by any means necessary. You think she even punches it once or twice. She turns to you again.

"Hey, you haven't tried putting stuff in your locker yet, have you?" she asks. 

You have. You think all the lockers are just kind of stuck, because it took you a good two minutes to get yours open. 

"Yes."

"Did it work?"

She's doing this nervous little sway.

"Took a minute or two, but yes."

"Could you, um, help me out? I'm running late for class," adding, "It's okay if you can't!"

You have this period free, so you'll help her out. You take the slip of paper from her that has her locker combination. 27-48-09. You put it in. The locker doesn't budge. You do it again. The locker doesn't budge. This goes on for a good few minutes until you realize something. The ink on the paper is slightly smudged. You give the paper back to her, and she seems slightly crestfallen. Maybe she figures you've given up. But you haven't.

"Try 27- _43-_ 09," you say, hoping your hypothesis is correct.

She does.

The locker door swings open.

She looks at the paper again.

"Figures. Stupid paper. The combination itself..." She trails off and balls up her fists, looking upset. She's quiet for a moment, though clearly tense, finally saying, "sorry for bothering you with that, um..."

"Aradia," you supply.

She beams at you.

"Okay, Aradia. I'm Feferi. Feferi, like the poisonous colorful cuttlefish!" she exclaims, before adding, "okay, you probably didn't need to know that part."

You think it's charming, honestly, and you make sure to tell her so. Her smile widens.

"You mentioned you were late for class," you say. "Want me to walk you there?"

You really  _really_ _want_ to walk her there. She didn't bat an eyelid at all the skulls on your pencil case and, upon introducing herself to you, the first thing she told you was that she shared a name with a poisonous type of cuttlefish. 

"If you want," she says.

You listen to her chatter all the way down to the math department, and are almost sorry to see her off.

However, you think you've made a new friend.

Later, Damara will warn you against interacting with her, because she is Meenah Peixes's little sister. Apparently, as you'll find out from Feferi later, Meenah warns Feferi about the same thing. Don't associate with Megidos, they're all batshit insane.

As it so happens, you would be perfectly fine with being insane.

And Feferi didn't seem like she could be a bully if she tried,

Loud, yes. Enthusiastic, yes. Mean...? Vicious...?

No.


	4. wait and be flexible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more early high school era, kanaya's POV

**_Late-September 2007 - Kanaya Maryam_ **

You can tell from how these students move, the way they look at you, the way they speak to you, that many will be no friends of yours. 

Some could be allies, perhaps, but not friends. 

Allies are different from friends. You would kill for your allies. Good ones, anyway. You would die for your friends.

You think you and Feferi should have just joined math team, even if the only thing you know about math past trigonometry is that you never, ever want to take it.

Not debate team.

Debate is a place for rich white kids who can afford the price of away tournaments. And Terezi Pyrope. Terezi Pyrope, who just doesn't seem to give a damn what people think of her.

_Resolved: You should have just walked out of here as soon as you walked in._

Why do you stay?

Probably for Feferi. She wants to be on student council. It's all part of her plan to go into politics. She wants to do something with herself. She wants to do something with the world - change it, soften it, make it a better place.

And you know, from talking with Porrim and Latula, that debate team is the fastest route to student council. And sure, there's a lot of camaraderie in debate, but also a lot of ruthlessness.

Be on your guard at all times. You are always on your guard at all times, so there's no issue there. You, Kanaya, are not known for your kindness. You are known for your honesty. And among people you don’t respect, you aren’t even known for that much.

Feferi needs someone as distrustful as you, someone who grew up in a household full of shouting and high expectations, acutely aware of even the most miniscule shifts in facial expression and gesture, because committing those shifts and cues to memory has saved your life in the past, when Porrim could not. When you were the one being hit instead of her. You usually could head it off, and you seldom did anything worthy of such action, only because you were so hyperaware, and because Porrim got into trouble way more often than you ever did.

“You are nothing like your sisters,” an upperclassman assistant coach tells you and Feferi both, as if it should be a compliment. “You two really are not, in the least.”

Feferi does nothing but blink at him, her large, round eyes not even slightly judgmental.

You are quick to retort.

“You’re right,” you tell him. “I don’t think my average will ever get as high as hers.”

Porrim was valedictorian to the class of 2007, a reminder of which and a consequent dressing-down that this kid sorely deserves.

That is not the answer he expects, but you will not talk against your own sister to endear yourself to these people. 

Feferi just looks between the two of you, smiling weakly, probably knowing that you are quite annoyed.

As it turns out, she definitely does. Perhaps even better than you do, in fact.

You two talk shit in Akan on your way home, holding onto subway poles and swaying as the 4 train sways.

“You should have smiled and said nothing,” she says. “Don’t let them know that you’re angry. That’s information.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Is that so?” you ask.

“Meenah told me something once, and she's right. You shouldn’t give certain things away if you can get someone to pay for them.”

“Well, excuse me,” you say. And then, with complete honestly, “I had no idea you had the situation so well in hand.”

She grins widely, doing that thing with her hands where it looks like she’s trying to paddle through some invisible ocean.

“You’re excused!”

She shifts from one foot to the other, no longer sharply thoughtful, but buoyant as her hair.

Feferi has a knack for doing that. She switches with a fluidity that not even you can anticipate. 

And then when she’s tired enough, she’ll fall asleep on you.

Even standing up.

Like now.

The next time you go to debate, the palest kid of the bunch, obviously also a freshman from his mannerisms, walks straight up to you and Feferi and introduces himself. _Eridan. Eridan Ampora._

You raise an eyebrow, but introduce yourself nevertheless. He looks like some weird hipster social climbing version of Harry Potter.

You think: _potential ally._

Feferi, from the way she smiles and laughs with him, has skipped the ally part and landed straight in the friend end of the pool.

But from the way he gazes at her, you get the impression that he’s looking for something in the deeper end of the pool than friendship.

You will keep an eye on him.

You have promised Meenah that you would keep Feferi out of trouble.

As for wannabe Harry Potter, Eridan must have realized that you’ve picked up on something, because he is not nearly as warm around you. 

The two of you shoot each other pointed looks while Feferi talks ever on, between the two of you, nervously, as if she can bridge the gap through words alone.

You sigh. You'll tolerate him for her. You don't want to upset her.

Still.

Why does she always want to befriend  _everyone?_


	5. equations for falling water

**_October 2007 - Feferi Peixes_ **

“Excuse me,” Aradia says, as the two of you walk out of class. You've become pretty good friends with her. Even Kanaya likes her. “But the jackass who sits behind you in bio has been purposely throwing little balls of paper at your hair.”

You frown. You comb a hand through your long hair, separating it with your fingers, and a few of them fall out.

You look at the floor and frown some more.

You don’t like this at all.

“Do you want me to get them out?” she asks.

You think of kids who yanked on your hair ten years ago, back in kindergarten, because they had never seen hair like yours.

“Um…”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. She doesn’t move to do anything, though.

She pulls out a hand mirror and gives it to you.

“You could take this into the bathroom, and use it so you can see the back of your head, and get them out yourself.”

“I have geometry in a few minutes,” you say. “I don’t have enough time.”

You give her back her mirror, and then turn around so she can get at your hair.

“Don’t pull too hard, okay?” you ask.

“I won’t,” she says. “I’ll do my best not to.”

For some reason, when she works her hands through your hair, you start to relax a little.

“I fucking hate Caliborn,” she continues, and that’s only the second time you’ve heard her curse. “He should be sent back upstate. Him and Vriska. They should both be sent upstate.”

“Upstate?”

“Yeah,” Aradia says. “There’s a school for terrible people. It’s all the way upstate. Caliborn went there for a few years. Vriska didn’t. But they should definitely send her there. She deserves it.”

You think of the school where you tried to learn to stop doing all the weird things you used to do, and try not to cry.

Aradia pauses.

“Hey, Feferi?”

You don’t answer.

“Feferi?”

You don’t answer.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

You’re confused.

“You’re sorry?”

She nods.

“Yeah. I said something that upset you. I’m sorry.”

You are not sure what to say to that, so you default to what Kanaya says whenever you gesticulate too expressively (which is what she calls it) and you make her flinch. She knows you’re not doing it to upset her. And Aradia knows that she didn’t say what she said to upset you.

So that’s probably what you should tell her.

“It’s okay.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Aradia replies.

You consider this for a while.

She pulls a few more pieces out of your hair, before her hands suddenly grow tense. “Are these spitballs? Gross!”

A shudder of revulsion overtakes you, as you exhale a great sound of distress. That kid did  _what?_

You’re going to wash your hair for the next fifty years when you get home. 

You are somehow going to find a way to Not Tell Meenah about this, because she’ll get really angry, decide to march up to your school, and deck Caliborn into next year, something that would be embarrassing to literally everyone involved. You can deck him yourself if you want to. Which you don’t, because…

It probably wouldn’t do a thing.

“You don’t have to keep going,” you say, and now you can’t even go to geometry, because the idea of having someone else’s saliva in your hair is so nasty that your legs have gone rubbery. “That’s… oh, God, that’s awful. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not my hair,” she says. “Besides, they invented soap for a reason. I’ll be fine.”

When she’s done, she goes into the bathroom and washes her hands for a while. 

You follow her, on unsteady feet. 

You have an idea. 

You dispense a handful of goopy soap into your hand, and bend so you can get most of your hair under the stream of water from the sink.

“I don’t know if you should d—” Aradia starts out, but you must look really upset, because she stops talking.

The door to the girls’ room opens. You’re not sure who it is, and you don’t really care. You are far more focused on getting all the spit out of your hair.

Someone puts a soft hand on your shoulder the way only they can do, and you look up.

“Kanaya, is that you?” you ask in Akan.

“It’s me,” she replies. “What are you doing?”

Every time you try to explain it to her, you just get really flustered at the thought. You will not cry, though. You promise.

“She’s trying to wash her hair,” Aradia says. “Caliborn blew spitballs into it during bio, apparently. I tried to get the teacher's attention but I don't think she saw me.”

“Oh. Is that so?” Kanaya asks, her hand moving to the small of your back, her fingers splayed in a reassuring way.

“Yes,” you say.

“That is an excellent reason to cut geometry,” Kanaya says, once you feel more steady. And then you feel guilty for ditching geo without warning her. “You’re going to be fine. Do you want me to help?”

Kanaya is one of the few people allowed to touch you hair without setting off your alarms. She has hair like yours. She has hair that is… even coarser than yours, probably closer to Meenah’s texture-wise. You like its texture, though. You like its coil and spring. Its body.

You told her that once when you were eleven, and she smiled all day.

“Please,” you tell her.

“You can go back to class,” Kanaya tells Aradia.

“If you want,” you add, hoping that she might want to stay.

“I have the period free,” Aradia says, before she adds, “Wait. This is sixth, right?”

“Yes,” Kanaya says. “Sixth period.”

“I’ll stay, then,” Aradia says. She leans back against the paper towel dispenser, while Kanaya turns you around.

“Close your eyes,” Kanaya says. “I don’t want soap to get into your eyes. We really shouldn’t wash your hair with this soap, but as long as you deep condition tonight, I don’t think there should be too much damage.”

While Kanaya works her magic, you start to relax again. Then you hear classical music playing.

You think of Aradia offering you one of her earbuds on the 4 train, so you could put your heads together and listen to Liszt.

You reach out. Someone reaches out to play with your fingers, someone who knows that you don’t like whenever anyone grabs your whole hand. It could be either Aradia or Kanaya.

You're not sure. It doesn't matter.

You smile.


	6. and through the dense and watery net, i see your darling face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kanaya's POV, still early high school era

_**Late-October 2007 - Kanaya Maryam** _

“I found you a gillfrond, Kanaya!” Feferi exclaims. “Took me a while but I did it!”

You do nothing but stare at her for several minutes. How anything could have taken her a while when you are literally in your sixth week of high school remains to be seen.

“Is that so?” you ask, one eyebrow raised. 

Feferi frowns, her lower lip jutting out.

“Oh, get your eyebrows out of judgment position! You can ‘is that so’ me to the bottom of the Atlantic, but only after I show you.” She points at the back of some girl’s head, a giant smile blooming on her face. “Her!”

You recognize this blond head - and the girl it’s attached to - from four of your classes. Incredibly goth. Arrestingly attractive.

Be still your nerd heart.

You immediately blush the color of your skirt. Feferi continues grinning.

“Did I do good?”

As if she doesn’t know the answer. As if her “finding” you a girlfriend means you will ever work up the courage to start up a conversation with this found girlfriend of yours beyond the pleasantries and occasionally friendly banter you and Rose exchange.

“Well, Feferi.”

“Whale, what?”

She’s still grinning.

“Your grammar is awful.”

This observation does not seem to deter her in the least.

You're not the girl looking at other girls in ways beyond the platonic, if a conversation you have on Pesterchum a few days later is anything to go by.

CC: You minnow.  
CC: I cod have this talk with Meena)(.  
CC: I’m sure s)(e would die for t)(e o-perc)(-tuna-ty to explain everyfin to me.  
CC: But I’m asking you.  
GA: If It Has To Do With The Geometry Homework I Am Quite Frankly Utterly Lost As Well  
CC: Nooooo silly guppy!  
CC: I )(ad somefin to ask you!  
CC: It’s kind of stupid.  
GA: It Cannot Be Any More Stupid Than Helping Eridan With Biology  
CC: )(-ES STILL STUCK?  
CC: Oh my glub!  
GA: You Are Telling Me  
GA: Anyway What Did You Want To Talk About  
CC: So um!  
CC: W)(at do you do when you like a girl?  
GA: Stare At The Back Of Her Head In AP World Until You See Fit To Ask Her On A Date Or Until The Heat Death Of The Universe Comes To Pass  
CC: …W)(at do you do w)(en you get bored with doing t)(at?  
GA: I Have Not Yet Reached That Point  
CC: You probably s)(ould.  
GA: I Have An Idea  
GA: When You Figure Out How To Proceed  
GA: You Tell Me  
CC: I don’t like t)(e sound of t)(at!

You decide to tell her exactly what you think.

GA: If You Are Talking About Aradia Megido  
GA: Then Perhaps The Wisest Course of Action Would Be To Tell Her  
GA: She Does Not Seem To Be Uninterested In You From What I Have Observed  
CC: Yeah, maybe I'll do that.  
CC: T)(is )(ard stuff.  
CC: Even )(arder than Geometry!  
GA: That Is Somewhat Debatable But I See Your Point

Three weeks later, neither of you has asked anyone out. You are top students, and somehow cannot approach girls. You two are the most stereotypical dorks on Earth.

 

 


	7. still waters run deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still from Kanaya's POV

**_November 2007 - Kanaya Maryam_ **

You and Feferi are traveling home from a debate meeting on the train. She's been quiet all afternoon. You assumed it was because she was tired, so - since you actually managed to get seats on the train - you let her lie down with her head in your lap. Still, she looks uncomfortable, and only grunts instead of thanking you, that noise becoming a low whine of distress.

You gaze up at the fluorescents overhead. The lights. Their brightness might be bothering her. You untie your scarf, and give it to her.

"Maybe you'll feel better if it's a little darker?" you ask. "You could cover your eyes with this if you want."

Once she does, everything about her starts to soften.

Since you have to take the entire 4 line to get home, you have a long ride ahead of you.

Maybe 3 stops later, Feferi speaks, scarf still over her eyes.

"Do you ever think about your life? Like, what you're doing. What everyone else is doing."

"I think we all do," you answer. "Why? Have you been thinking about your life?"

“Yeah, I guess. My life, well, it's a little like being a princess in a Disney movie. It looks nice at first, and then it actually sucks,” Feferi tells you, head still in your lap. “All these people want to protect you, but they don’t know that you can protect yourself.”

You raise an eyebrow.

You wonder if she’s including you in that group. 

You have never done anything you didn’t think you needed to do, but that still… doesn’t mean much, really.

She lowers the scarf and holds you in her unwavering fuchsia gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you say abruptly. 

She shakes her head and laughs.

“I don’t mean  _you_ , Kanaya,” she says. “At least I can  _talk_ to you, and you listen.”

You don’t listen for long enough, you think. Still, you’ve gotten good at sitting on your urges toward interference, probably from watching your sister struggle with the same issue. Both of you have gotten better at not poking your heads into everything.

“I can’t talk to Meenah and have her listen. She still looks at me like I'm eight,” Feferi continues. “Same for Sollux sometimes and also Eridan, even though they didn't know me back then. And my parents. None of them know how to listen. It's stifling.”

“Parents and siblings are supposed to be overprotective, I think. And Sollux would probably listen if you found the right way to break it down for him,” you say fairly, having known the kid since… time immemorial. Whenever your sister and Tuna became friends is when you met Sollux, and that was several years ago. You’re not as sure about the other boy, Eridan, and you say so. “As for Eridan, I don’t know if he knows how to do that.”

“He listens to you,” Feferi says.

“Probably because he knows I will not hesitate to retaliate if he oversteps his bounds,” you say. Retaliation being your word for a retort that will make his ears sting for years afterward. “Would you like me to talk to them?”

She goes silent for a while, but does not frown at you.

“This is probably something I have to do myself, if I want them to  _get_ it,” she says. “But you can help, if you want.”

"Okay."

And with Feferi's head in your lap, you fall asleep. The both of you nearly miss your train stops, Feferi somewhat zoned out, and you just completely dead to the world.

"Promise me you'll go to sleep when you get home?" Feferi asks.

You make a face. "But homework--"

"You're exhausted, Kanaya." She extends her right pinkie like you two are nine again. "Pinkie swear on it."

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look unserious? Swear on it."

When she gets that gentle, yet authoritative tone in her voice, she really does remind you of a princess. No, not a princess. A queen.

It's almost strange to hear her speak that way. Almost. You're used to it. This is just another part of who she is.

That said, you perform the requisite action.

"Alright, Feferi, I swear," while your pinkies are still interlocked. 

She gives you a silly little smile then, and then says, "good, 'cause I'll be checking with Porrim to make sure you actually do!"

Feferi Peixes is something else entirely.

She is one of your dearest friends, and sometimes she gets on your nerves, but you love her to pieces.


End file.
